


The City

by ChibisUnleashed



Category: Rise of the Guardians (2012)
Genre: 2D Pitch, Existential kinda, I think I lost the plot in the middle somewhere, Jack is still kind of a nightlight, Lots of quiet until it isn't, M/M, dancing under the stars
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-18
Updated: 2016-03-18
Packaged: 2018-05-27 09:36:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,099
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6279256
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChibisUnleashed/pseuds/ChibisUnleashed
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sometimes Jack needs to be alone, but it isn't because he wants to be alone.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The City

He was miles from  _ anything  _ and he loved it. He was taking a break from frozen tundra to lay in tall grass, still frozen, but not literally. It was the middle of the night and no one was looking for him and the sky was  _ spectacular.  _

He spoke too soon.

“Jack Frost,” A smooth voice greeted from the darkness.

“Pitch,” The Guardian greeted right back. There was no point in being rude  _ yet.  _ He rolled over onto his stomach to easier see behind him, where the Nightmare King was nearly 2D in the deep shadows of the grass, metallic eyes staring unblinkingly back at him.

It was unnerving. Almost as unnerving as the silence that stretched when Jack waited for Pitch to say something, and Pitch waited, saying nothing. He could do long silences when he felt like it, but on his stomach, in the grass, being watched by creepy glowy eyes was not making him feel like it. Jack was the first to crack, “What are you doing out here?”

“I’ll ask you the same thing,” The Boogeyman returned, creeping forward along the ground until he was a polite distance for conversation away, but still a part of the ground, “I was just passing by. Great Plains are perfect for that sound you  _ know  _ you heard behind you but nobody’s there. When you can see clearly for miles, it’s especially nerve-wracking.” A gray hand reached out of the ground, tinted purple-blue by the darkness, to run delicate fingers over the rough bark of Jack’s staff, the bright blue glow where Jack’s hands touched the wood immediately dimming with Pitch’s shadows, “Which is exactly how I couldn’t help but notice you. Your magic is like a beacon out here where everything is silent and dark.”

It had not occurred to Jack that he might need to drop his staff if he wanted to be properly hidden. After all, a person in hiding does not usually think to leave their only weapon behind like that. It was alright, though. He and Pitch had formed an odd sort of truce in the time since his defeat. They both knew what it was to be lonely and desire nothing but simple conversation, and as long as their activities did not directly oppose one another, they saw no reason not to talk. Jack imagined it took some of the sting out of not having as many believers, for Pitch.

“I was in the mood for something that wasn’t ice as far as the eye could see,” Jack returned the favor. Conversation only worked if both of them spoke, something they figured out early on. Circular conversations about how nothing was either of their business were boring as all Hell. “I know it doesn’t all look the same, but it was starting to.”

Jack could tell Pitch was nodding by the shift of light in his eyes, “It was all reminding you of the same ice, you mean.”

That whole  _ always  _ knowing what someone feared thing was really annoying, but Jack couldn’t find it in him to look anything but exasperatedly amused by it. He was here to escape the feeling that his relationships with the other guardians were fragile, crumbling buildings that needed lots of retaining walls and constant maintenance to keep standing. “Yeah, sure,” So he wasn’t going into detail.

Pitch took the hint. Escapism was an art for people like them. Metallic eyes rose to take in the gorgeous sky, a head Jack couldn’t see tilting back and to the side until suddenly he  _ could  _ see it, Pitch’s whole body melting out of the shadows to splay over the grass just like Jack had been only minutes before. 

“You can’t see the aurora from here.”

“No, but a silent sky is its own kind of beautiful,” Jack answered, rolling back over, himself. They weren’t side by side. They would have been further apart if they were. Like this, their feet might be far, but their faces were so close…

“How long have you been out here?”

“Since dusk.”

“That was several hours ago.”

“I know.”

Pitch’s head rolled to take in Jack’s form again. Jack knew because they were close enough he could hear it,  _ feel  _ it in the closing distance between them. “Have you been able to let go, yet?”

Jack smiled. They’d talked about it, before. The Guardians understood the concept, but were way too together of people to  _ need  _ it like Jack did. Thus, they didn’t understand  _ why  _ Jack would need it so much. Pitch understood that far, but didn’t seem able to do it, himself. He held too many grudges, obsessed over too many things, carried weight on his shoulders without even meaning to. His anger was seeded so far in his heart the idea of dropping it, even temporarily, was beyond him. 

But Jack. Jack was all about being swept up and away in the moment, the here and now. He had his anxieties, his pressures, his worries, but he could  _ let them go.  _ He had to pick them up again later of course, he was a Guardian with responsibilities. Things to do, people to see, children to guard, but when it was all too much he could stop, full stop, recharge his spirit, and dive in again. 

It was what he was doing right now, and Pitch knew it without asking. “Not quite yet.”

It was a lie. Jack had been pleasantly worry free for a while, but he was the Guardian of Fun and his focus was suddenly shifted. As complicated as Jack’s life was at the moment, there was someone else who needed to know what being carefree felt like more than him right now. 

Jack rolled to his feet, grabbing Pitch’s hand along the way and tugging him up as well. Then he took the other hand and began shuffling his steps in a way that vaguely resembled very poor dancing. 

“What are you doing?” came Pitch’s bemused question.

“I saw this in a movie once.”

“Did you now.”

“Hush, it’ll be awesome, okay?”

And it was, because unlike Jack, Pitch had some practice at this and the confidence to make it work. The Boogeyman wordlessly took over the lead, whirling Jack through the frozen grasses under the stars, the deepest dark and pale moonlight defining the silent world around them. 

Jack’s staff was quiet at their feet, blending into the soil without magic to make it glow and it, like the worries that chased him out here, was soon forgotten in the rhythm and beat of the mute dance between them. 


End file.
